


A Gut Feeling.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, M/M, Mutant Powers, Team Iron Man, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: Tony Stark has a remarkable tendency to let his mouth run away from him, especially before a fight. What nobody ever notices is most of what he says has a propensity to come true.Nobody, except Loki.





	A Gut Feeling.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MnemonicMadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnemonicMadness/gifts).



> She saw a gif-set, and then gave me an AU idea where Tony Stark has premonitions as his mutant!powers, except nobody notices it.  
> Her ideas were a lot more interesting than this fic ended up being, but I hope this is still a fun read.

The alarm for Avengers Assemble had rang at 3 am on a Saturday night, after the team had already gone to bed after indulging heavily into alcohol, brewed both on Midgard and Asgard. Which meant that ten minutes after the alarm, the Avengers woke up grumbling and clutching their heads.

It was a miracle the team managed to stay half sane and focused despite their terrible life choices, and the odd hours the enemies chose to create mayhem. Loki thought back to his villainous days—before he had been cleverly recruited to the hero side of things—and patted himself on his back for at least being a considerate villain. He could at least say with pride that he had never caused a ruckus at 3 am on a Saturday night.

Loki had not yet slept and his magic had already cleared any lingering effects of alcohol from his system. So he skimmed through the briefing report that JARVIS had sent to his mobile, as he entered the common room. Half the team was already there, in different states of misery. He grinned at Thor’s disgruntled face, and dragged his chair in a way that made loud screeching noise just to see him wince. Seeing mortals suffering because of not knowing their limits was an everyday entertainment; seeing Thor do the same was a rare treasure.

Five minutes later, all the Avengers had gathered in the same room, waiting for mission debrief, with the exception of one. The alarm was still blaring in the building, and Loki could bet it was doing no favor to the headache most of them were sporting.

“Where the hell is Stark?” The archer said, eventually.

As if he was just waiting for this moment exactly—and from what Loki had learned of Stark in the short while, he wouldn’t put dramatic entrance beyond him—the elevator doors dinged and Stark strode in.

“Right here, Katniss. I was just reading through the mission parameters that SHEILD sent.” Stark smirked, looking more alive in his pajamas and sweatshirts than everyone else in the room. Then he frowned and looked around. “And JARVIS, for the love of God, will you turn that off?”

“Certainly, Sir.”

The alarm turned off. Loki watched the look of shock on everyone’s face. The assassin was the one who voiced what everyone else was no doubt thinking.

“Really? Couldn’t you do it before?” She glared at… the ceiling. Loki found it strange that the humans still thought the artificial intelligence somehow resided inside the roof.

“I could, Miss Romanov,” JARVIS answered. Loki saw Stark ineffectually hide a smirk—his creations were as snarky as he was. “If someone had asked.”

The glare landed at Stark then, but before anyone could complain, Loki beat them to it. “Did you have to? It was just starting to be fun.”

Stark turned around to look at him, his face solemn but his eyes laughing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; didn’t realize I was messing with your mischief. Do you want me to turn it back on?”

“Unless you want the Other Guy to come out, I would advise against it,” Dr. Banner spoke quietly, but suddenly it felt like the loudest sound.

Loki’s eyes widened, swallowing heavily. Stark’s eyes travelled down his neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob, before smirking. “I believe I’ll listen to the good doctor, then?”

“Thank you,” Banner said, then squinted at Stark. “Did you even sleep?”

Loki saw everyone’s eyes land on Stark, judging. He couldn’t help but notice none of them were exactly friendly. Stark shifted uncomfortably, and then shrugged. “Nah. Had some stuff I needed to work on,” he said. “No rest for wicked, and all that.”

The Captain, who had been in process of procuring coffee for himself, stepped forward. “Why was SHIELD debriefing you alone?” There was enough suspicion in his voice to raise Loki’s hackles. These so called teammates sure didn’t treat everyone like a _team_.

If Stark was bothered by it, he didn’t show it. Instead he walked towards the counter himself, his voice faux casual. “Maybe I was the only one who answered the call? Anyway, you all should’ve gotten the email too.”

Loki noticed as everyone quickly scrolled through their Stark phones. Loki knew JARVIS had sent the files to all of them— the information about the green dome of energy in the suburbs that practically screamed _Enchantress_. Captain looked almost sheepish, but the apology that Stark deserved never came. Loki had been part of the team long enough to know it never did. He felt himself bristle at the disrespect shown to the man who was housing them, but he was the only one who felt it.

“Anyway, we don’t have time to linger. SHIELD isn’t sure exactly what it is, but it sounds nasty… and magic. Which is, of course, Enchantress’s MO. We have already faced Amora before, and we all know she can be a handful. Also I get this nagging feeling it’s worse than that.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve asked. It was obvious that he didn’t like Stark giving the pep-talk instead of him.

“I’m not sure. Call it a gut feeling.” Stark had made himself a coffee while everyone was reading the briefing and he drank his cup of dark, disgusting liquid in large gulps. Loki had tried that beverage only once and found it vile. “Talking about that, Clint, will you check your anti-grav boots before taking off?”

“They work fine, Tony. I know how to maintain my equipment.”

Stark shrugged. “It’s your funeral.” Then he produced something from his pocket. “Oh and Bambi, this is for you.”

Loki caught the gadget that was thrown at him and examined it. It looked like a bracelet. “What is it?”

To his surprise, Stark looked bashful… almost nervous. “It’s an energy scrambler that will feed on what you call your Siedr, and hopefully disperse any other type of magical energy thrown your way,” he said, and then waited as if he expected Loki to throw it back. “It’s just a prototype, but after studying your magical signature… I thought… why not. I’m not implying that you can’t defend yourself against the Enchantress, but if something was to surprise you anyway, maybe this would help.”

Stark was rambling. Loki could tell Stark was also feeling extremely self-conscious, although he was hiding it well behind his confidence. It spoke to how his teammates treated him that he was even afraid of giving what was a brilliant combination of science and magic as a gift. Already Loki could feel his seidr being pulled into the device.

He looked up at Stark, locking their eyes, and then snapped the bracelet on his wrist. The relief on Stark’s face was obvious.

“Thank you, Stark.” Loki nodded, sincere.

Thor then clapped a hand on Stark’s shoulder, making him stumble. “Thank you indeed, Man of Iron. My brother is grateful for such a gift. If this was Asgard, I would think you were courting him, but Midgard has different traditions, as I have come to learn.” Loki fought of a flush of anger—yes, it was anger at his brother’s crassness, and not embarrassment at the suggestion—and looked away. Thor continued on, oblivious. “Did you not make one for me as well?”

“Err…”

“Surely you are not in need for such implements, Brother?” Loki intervened before the situation could get any more awkward. “If we are testing a new device, I am the obvious choice for it. You’ll get the finished product, if it works. Isn’t that right, Stark?”

Stark looked so immensely grateful at the rescue that Loki almost laughed at him. Mouthing a thank you at Loki, he nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

Buying into the explanation, Thor nodded. “If that is so, we must not linger any longer. Midgard needs its heroes.” He turned towards Steve then who gave a nod.

“Has everyone read through the mission parameters?” Steve asked. When everyone nodded, he stood up, straight and self-righteous. “Okay. Suit up, get your gear, and meet us at hanger bay in ten minutes.”

And just like that, everyone dispersed. Well, everyone except Stark. Loki walked closer to him and noticed he was biting his thumb—a sign of anxiety he rarely displayed. Loki debated whether to pry, but as no one else had, he thought it was his responsibility to. Wasn’t that what Thor keep insisting on? Responsibilities of a teammate and all that.

“Can I ask what is bothering you?” he asked, quiet enough that if Stark wanted to ignore him, he could.

Instead, Stark turned around and faced him, the worry naked on his face. “I don’t know, Bambi. I hope I am wrong, but I have got a bad feeling about this.”

“It’s just the Enchantress making trouble again.” He didn’t know who he was trying to comfort, but he still found himself saying that.

“Is it?” Stark looked away again. “How do we know she is alone this time?”

And with that grave declaration, he shook his head and took off towards the elevator to get his Armor, and get ready for the battle.

* * *

 

The battle was a disaster.

In a way no one expected it to be. No one except Anthony Stark.

They landed their quinjet in hanger bay, and the team shuffled out, all of them sporting heavy injuries. The medic team rushed towards them, putting the already stabilized Barton on the stretcher. They tried to get Romanov to go with them too, but she waved them away and limped with the rest of the team. Even the super soldiers looked like the death warmed them over, but they were going to be alright in a few hours. It could’ve ended up a lot worse.

They had just fought a battle they had not been prepared for. The only reason they were still standing was already making his way towards the elevator, not even glancing back.

“How did you know?” Loki’s voice came out accusing as he found his remaining strength and marched up to the mortal. Stark stopped in his path and turned towards him, looking curiously confused. For a moment, Loki almost bought it.

“Know what?”

“Everything.” Loki’s voice came as a snarl, and he gripped Stark’s arm. He wasn’t angry at Stark, not really. He was humiliated, and exhausted, and drained of magic… so it felt _right_ to shake Stark, who had _known_ this would happen, and still hadn’t warned them.

But… he had.

Nobody had listened.

He took in the very real, very believable confusion on Stark’s face, along with pain because Stark hadn’t been spared the beating either. His grip slackened.

“You didn’t know.” He realized with a start. “You didn’t, and yet…”

Loki closed his eyes and replayed the fight in his head, the formidable surge of magic he had felt the moment they entered Amora’s magical dome, the way it had felt overwhelmingly powerful in a warped reality and the only thing keeping him from keeling immediately had been the bracelet on his arm. He thought back to Barton’s grav boots failing, to an ancient sorceress’s magic coloring Amora’s, and to the voice that was most definitely not Amora’s coming from her lips. It had taken them a few moments to realize Amora had teamed up with Morgan Le Fay, and a few more for the dread to set in.

And he remembered how in control Stark was throughout it all, how his calm voice grounded them, until Doctor Strange showed up out of the blue, and together, Strange and Loki managed to match, if not subdue the two witches.

“You called the Wizard, did you not?” Loki asked, this time intrigued, rather than angry.

“I did.”

“Why?” He squinted, daring the mortal to lie to the God of lies.

There was not an ounce of falsehood in Stark’s tone when he replied. “I thought we might need his help.”

“Why?” Loki asked again. Stark had replied, but he hadn’t answered.

“What do you mean?”

“We have gone against Amora many times, Stark. There was nothing in the briefing about there being another sorcerer involved. How did you _know_?”

“Oh, that.” Stark rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Paranoia, I suppose. It felt like an overkill to call Strange, but I thought it better to be careful… you know how it is.”

Loki scanned Stark’s face for any deception, but didn’t find any sign of it. His stare must have gotten unnerving, because Stark spoke again.

“It was just a gut feeling. We all have gut feelings, don’t we?” Stark looked around, as if asking the rest of the team to corroborate his word.

“It’s not gut feeling, Tony. It’s a cursed tongue.” Natasha quipped from where she was leaning against a wall, barely keeping herself upright.

“Yeah. Or that.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Loki turned towards the assassin, unable to suppress the malice in his tone. He hated how Stark had shrunk in on himself all of a sudden. She couldn’t be implying what he thought she was implying.

“Stark has a habit of opening his mouth before the missions, and jinxing it. Like Clint’s boots. They have never had any problem until Stark mentioned them. It’s not even the first time. Two weeks ago Stark told be to tie my hair before going, and a doombot nearly slit my throat because of its grip on my hair.”

Except she was. She was blaming Stark for all the things he warned them about. He had always considered Midgardians to be pathetic, whiny creatures… but this was too much, even for them.

“Maybe you should’ve tied your hair then, don’t you think?” Loki infused as much saccharine venom in his voice as he could, and could see her stiffen at that. She looked at him for a moment, wondering if she was willing to pick a fight. Loki hoped she would. In his peripheral vision, Loki could see the captain watching, waiting for how the tension resolved. Even tired as he was, this was something he would relish in.

Except she decided it wasn’t worth it, and with a shrug, she turned around and left. Loki waited until Steve had turned his attention elsewhere as well, before looking back at Stark.

“Is it true?” When he had joined the team, he had searched them all for inherent magic. Even though Stark could create wonders with his hands and mind, Loki was pretty sure there wasn’t an ounce of seidr inside him.

Still, Loki’s magic reached out once again to confirm… and found nothing to resonate with.

And yet.

“I suppose it is.” Stark looked exhausted in a way he hadn’t even after the fight. The disapproval of your so called brothers-in-arms would do that to you. “I try not to say anything… but I just have this…”

“Gut feeling.” Loki felt a smile creep on his face. He knew it looked demented, and could see Stark startle at the expression, but he couldn’t help it. “Tell me more about it.”

* * *

 

“No way.”

They had relocated to Stark’s workshop for some privacy. Once Loki was done explaining, Stark sat completely still for a few minutes before shaking his head. It was a lot to take in, but Loki wasn’t expecting denial from the human.

“I assure you, Stark…”

“No, no, no. You’ve said enough. My turn now.” Stark held up a hand, stopping him, and then proceeded to close his eyes and stay quiet.

“Stark…”

“No fucking way.” He opened his eyes and looked at Loki, confused and a little bit stunned. This time, Loki wisely stayed quiet. “You’re saying I’m not human?”

“I’m not saying that.” Loki knew mortals could be _touchy_ about something like that. “I am saying that you are… more.”

“Yeah. No. I’m not buying that. JARVIS, how are the scans coming along?”

“At 78% now, Sir. I am currently mapping your genome and comparing it with the records we have on the X-men. It’s difficult to say anything with complete certainty, but the preliminary results corroborate with Mr. Loki’s hypothesis.”

“Well, fuck me.” Stark slumped on his bench, awed and appalled all at once.

“With pleasure.” Loki couldn’t help quipping. It made Stark grin and wink at him, on top of being almost the truth, so he called it a win.

“So…. I’m a mutant,” Stark said, after a few minutes of silence.

“I wouldn’t call it that, but essentially, yes.” Mutant sounded like an insult. What Stark could do, deserved the exact opposite.

“The futurist…” Stark said, and there was a deep set bitterness that lingered in his voice. “Clint was right, even if he didn’t mean it that way.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Anthony.” His voice gentled, without his permission. There seemed to be something fragile about the mortal, and Loki wanted to do all he could to not let him shatter. “Only the most powerful of seers can see the future. For that you would need to have the power cosmic inside you, and a connection with Yggdrasil so strong that it drives most of the seers mad. What you have is… premonitions, at best.”

“Firstly, shame on you for dissing my superpower. Secondly, while my sanity is debatable, you sure it’s not magic?”

“It’s not magic,” Loki confirmed.

“How does it even work then?”

“If I may, Sir.” JARVIS answered before Loki could shrug. “I seem to have located the mutation in question. It is in the gene sequences concerned with pattern recognition and precognition. There also seems to be noticeably increased signaling activity in your limbic system when compared with the average for human brains. I believe Mr. Loki is right in calling them premonitions.”

“Huh.” Stark seemed to have digested the news already. “You think they might take me more seriously now that there is genetic evidence of my predictions being true?”

Loki thought back to how the team treated Stark, selfishly and without respect. Stark seemed to read it on Loki’s face, because he smiled sardonically. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“It matters not what they think, Anthony. It matters what _is._ ”

Stark sat quietly for a few minutes. There was a slump to his shoulders that Loki wanted to shake him out of. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed. They had… something… but Loki wasn’t sure what it was yet, and he didn’t want to risk losing it. But still, he couldn’t stay quiet in the face of Stark’s needless distress.

“Come now, it’s not so bad,” Loki drawled, knowing teasing would help more than compassion. They were quite alike in that way. Neither of them wanted pity. “Don’t tell me you actually _want_ to be one of those pathetic mortals.”

“Not helping. And I thought we had decided they weren’t pathetic.” Stark raised a finger. “What happened to that? Don’t tell me you have already forgotten all of my efforts as a shrink.”

Loki smiled, shaking his head. “I believe we had decided _you_ weren’t as pathetic as the rest of your species. And that hasn’t changed. If anything, that has been reinforced.”

Stark looked at him like he was a puzzle. “You actually _like_ that, don’t you? My… mutant status.”

He did. His instinct was to deflect, but instead he let himself be honest. Stark deserved that. “It is you.” It wasn’t the ability Loki liked, it was the mortal who possessed it. Stark seemed to understand it, because the smile that crept on his lips was genuine this time.

“Hey Lolo,” he said, bending forward. “Now that we have concluded I can predict the future…”

“Anticipate the future, Stark. Not predict.”

“Potayto, potahto. As I was saying, I am going to make a prophecy now.”

There was far too much mischief in Stark’s voice for the god of mischief to resist. “Really?”

“Yep. And I predict that you are going to kiss me, in like… the next two minutes.”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that. They had been dancing around this line, and around each other, ever since Loki had officially joined the Avengers. And if he was being honest to himself—which he never tried to be—they had been dancing to this tune for far longer than that, maybe from the first moment they met.

So it was far too easy for Loki to lean forward and say, “The seer has spoken; who am I to resist,” before pressing their lips together.

If the outcome of listening to Anthony’s predictions was always as glorious as that kiss… Loki decided he knew better than to ever ignore them. If the rest of the team had any brain cells within their skulls, a fact that Loki often found himself doubting, they would do well to listen to him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I... am not happy with how this came out. At ALL. But i wrote this fic more to get out of my writing block, than to focus on QUALITY. Debated between sharing it, or not... but thought maybe some people would enjoy the idea of mutant!tony (for which REBECCA GETS ALL THE CREDIT).  
> Also used this to work out some of my anti-old-avengers feels :P. I am still so angry at them... when will I stop?
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed reading this, please let me know. It may save a writer's life (or her ability to word at the very least) <3


End file.
